


Sinners Like Him

by maidmer



Category: Welcome to Hell - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Blood and Gore, Character Death, Dark, Death, Gen, One Shot, Suicide, Suicide Attempt, Violence, i can't make a single happy fic ok
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-22
Updated: 2017-09-22
Packaged: 2019-01-04 05:28:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12162465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maidmer/pseuds/maidmer
Summary: Jonathan finally gathers the courage to go through with it.





	Sinners Like Him

Jonathan distinctly remembered all the talks he'd had with Sock about death.

About how it felt to die.

About the feeling of wanting nothing more than to reverse your actions the second before your lest second alive.

About the peculiar feeling of something invading your innermost organs on the most intimate level.

And yet Jonathan still wanted to die, he wanted it more than he'd wanted anything ever before.

All Sock could do was float nearby, invisible and inaudible, because Mephistopheles never told him that in those last few moments, the client had to be alone.

Because if someone about to kill themselves wasn't all by themselves, they might not go through with it. And Hell couldn't have that.

So the demon covered his mouth in horror, watching as the man he'd come to care about weighed a razor in his hands.

Thoughts of warm blood, his own blood, soaking through his clothes filled Jonathan's mind, his unconscious mind's feeble attempt to prevent him from following through.

Then there were thoughts of nothingness, of finally being able to let go after so long of nothing but barely holding on. It was freeing for all but a minute, until Jonathan remembered what happened to Sock. Apparently after death there was just more living.

That's all there is for sinners like them, he supposed.

He moved the razor closer to his wrist.

Sighed.

Gritted his teeth.

And dragged the blade along his vein.

Jonathan hissed, the feeling of the razor sunk a quarter inch inside his arm was like fire leaping across his skin.

Sock gasped in disbelief, watching the teen's blood spatter the bathroom tiles wasn't as satisfying as he thought it would be. Quite the opposite really, it filled him with sadness.

The boy, still very much alive, grasped the edge of the blade and pulled it across his other forearm, exposing yet more crimson liquid and sinew and muscle to the stale air.

At this point, Jonathan let out a cry of pain, and collapsed.

His breath was getting shallower and shallower.

He wondered if he should've left a note.

He remembered he left his stereo playing.

He realized his parents would find his body, cold and laying in a puddle of his own vital fluids.

Blood pooled around him, a halo of life surrounding a dying boy.


End file.
